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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474673">Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatblondebalrogslayer/pseuds/thegreatblondebalrogslayer'>thegreatblondebalrogslayer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Sails</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Miranda and Charles are best buds and I'll fight anyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:59:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatblondebalrogslayer/pseuds/thegreatblondebalrogslayer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Walrus crew, including one Miranda Barlow, make their way back to Nassau after the events of Charlestown. Things are... different. Miranda convinces Flint to take Silver back to the house to recover from the loss of his leg. Things get interesting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw, Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing he is aware of upon waking is an unrelenting pain starting in his leg and echoing harshly throughout the rest of his body. The second is that of a woman’s laughter. It takes him a moment to remember how strange that was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he remembers where he is. Who he is. He remembers the Walrus, the crew. They’re in Charlestown. They were there to deliver the girl to get the pardons but something… Something had gone wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles Vane had boarded the ship then… What had happened then? He struggled to remember through the pain. Flint. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It had always come back to Flint. Maybe it always would. Flint had been in danger and Charles Vane of all people had gone to rescue him, leaving John alone with his angry men. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaving John alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He inhaled sharply. He tried to move his leg but… He gasped at the raw pain of it. Of the lack of it. He opened his eyes and they trailed down the length of his body. Panic swelled within his chest as he finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>remembered.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before his panic could grow any further he heard the laughter again. His eyes shot across  the room and then he finally realized where he was. The captain's quarters which meant… Mrs. Barlow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was sitting in the captain’s chair, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> chair, laughing at something </span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles Vane</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people was telling her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure in that moment what was more shocking: the loss of his leg, or the fact that Mrs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Barlow </span>
  </em>
  <span>was sitting in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>chair laughing at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles Vane.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Flint wasn’t even in the room with them. He had left her alone in a room with John and Charles </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vane</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What on earth had he missed?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to sit up but couldn’t, a strangled noise escaping his mouth. The two other occupants turned to the source of the noise. Charles’ face was unreadable. Mrs. Barlow’s was… Well, it was a lot. She looked like she had been through hell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But still, she smiled at him and stood and walked over to him. She sat at the other end of the bench, careful to leave him with whatever room he might require. “Charles, would you mind fetching Dr. Howell for us?” She called out to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles Vane nodded to her then left the room without a word. John wondered, not for the first time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who </span>
  </em>
  <span>exactly she was. But he didn’t think he’d get an answer any time soon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” She asks, her eyes gentle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to rage, to scream. How is he </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling?</span>
  </em>
  <span> How does she </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling?</span>
  </em>
  <span> But he doesn’t. He tightens his lips and leans back, eyes closing firmly shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see.” She says. She doesn’t say anything until Howell comes into the room. She moves aside for him to look over John. He doesn’t say anything John didn’t already know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That it will take time to heal. That it will heal faster once they’re back on land. That the men have given him their support. Their </span>
  <em>
    <span>love. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That last part goes unsaid but it rings louder than anything he had ever heard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaves, Mrs. Barlow gives him a smile as he goes. He pauses, unsure of what to do until he shrugs it off and leaves the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are they all like that?” John rasps off? His voice is weak, unsure. He hates it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow at him. “Like what? Unsure of what to do with a woman on board?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” He croaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, all of them.” She leans in conspiratorially, “Even James in his own way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“James?” He asks, trying to reconcile who he knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>James</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be with the fact that anyone might call </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint </span>
  </em>
  <span>by their given name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain Flint.” She says, though she knows that he knows who she was speaking of. “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly, there’s much for you two to discuss as I understand it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The panic begins to bubble up again. Flint is coming. He’s coming and John is trapped. He’s more trapped than he’s ever been before. Trapped in this bed. On this ship. On this </span>
  <em>
    <span>crew.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Trapped on a ship full of men that he has betrayed utterly. But one above the rest. He didn’t regret it, but he was terrified of the outcome. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The outcome which likely depended on whatever had happened in Charlestown. Whatever had affected Mrs. Barlow so thoroughly. He hadn’t spent much time near her before, being too busy trying to plan his escape from the crew before they discovered his betrayal. But there was a different air to her. Sadness yes, but also a deep anger. A rage. It was a quiet rage, but the type that would likely never leave her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to shrink away from her, from her pain. But his own pain would not allow him to. So instead he asks, “What happened in Charlestown?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks down at her hands. They’re smooth, unlike anyone else's on this ship he’s certain. His hands had been like that until he’d been sucked into this life. He wondered if the same would happen to her. But no, he didn’t think Flint would allow it. She folds her hands together. “We…” she starts but trails off. “We presented the issue of the pardon’s but things quickly turned sour. James and I were arrested and faced a very public trial. Charles rescued us.” Her voice is clipped, as if she knows that if she says anymore she’ll give too much away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders what Flint had done to earn her loyalty. He doesn’t think he’ll ever find out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That can’t be it, then what happened?” He asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charles took over the fort, his men gave us cover to escape. They…” She trails off. He doesn’t say anything and waits for her to continue. She smiles at him and he knows that he won’t get anymore from him. “I’m sure you’ll hear it a hundred times over from the crew, they’d be delighted to tell you. Now-” She starts to say but is interrupted as the door to the cabin opens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John jumps as if the door had slammed open. He winces as the movement moves his leg and shoots pain throughout his body. Neither Mrs. Barlow nor Flint, for that was who had entered, seemed to notice his distress. He shakes it off before they notice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches Flint shed his coat and sees Mrs. Barlow doing the same from the end of his makeshift bed. He wonders briefly what Flint will think when he sees her sitting there but his thought is cut off by another. Mrs. Barlow’s face softens as she watches his captain move throughout his cabin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, he realizes and is struck dumb. Somebody loved </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was reeling. How anybody could love… Well, he wasn’t even sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> Flint was. Some days he seemed monstrous. Others he was a genius, or a madman. But sometimes, when Silver knew he thought no one else was looking, he was unbearably sad. John always had to look away when he caught that expression on his captains’ face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Mrs. Barlow seemed to have no such compunctions or judgments, or if she did they did not show themselves to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint walks over to them, not even looking at John. He places a hand on Mrs. Barlow’s shoulder and kisses her gently on her forehead. She covers his hand in hers and leans into the kiss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wants to run away screaming. He doesn’t. He can’t. No one had ever made him feel more trapped than Flint, that feeling had seemed to manifest itself in a very real way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint looks at him, his face… Well, John wasn’t sure what to make of his face. He didn’t get much time to consider it as he made the very poor decision to try and adjust his leg at that moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the wrong decision, he quickly learned as his vision went fuzzy and then was gone altogether. He tried to cling onto consciousness but it slipped away from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing he was aware of was his captain swearing to his companion “Shit, Miranda I think he’s about to-” Then John was gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long it he had passed out for when he woke up but instead of Mrs. Barlow sitting next to him was Flint. He wanted to laugh hysterically, Captain </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint</span>
  </em>
  <span> was sitting at his bedside. Not even his bedside, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>on </span>
  </em>
  <span>his bed. He was sitting as far away from John’s leg as possible, probably to avoid a repeat incident of what had happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” John asked. Flint was staring out of the open window, his face was more relaxed than John had ever seen it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to John. “It doesn’t matter, you should rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John, gently, pushed himself up into a sitting position. “What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> it doesn’t matter? Of course it matters, it matters to me, to the crew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint laughs. It’s a real laugh, an honest laugh. John is taken aback. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He can’t help but ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, it’s just… Well, you actually sound like a quartermaster. I must admit I didn’t quite believe them when they nominated you but here we are.” He laughs again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John almost faints again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quartermaster</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Him. Quartermaster. On Flint’s ship. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John exhales roughly. Then inhales slowly and looks over at Flint. “Then as your quartermaster, I believe it is within my rights to know what the hell happened back in Charlestown. Regardless of if I need </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He spits out the last word, he’s almost certain it isn’t Flint who’s concerned for his health, but he thinks he knows who is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t bare it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint says nothing at his change in mood, or sudden audacity, but raises a single eyebrow. He folds his arms and leans back. “The deal with the governor fell through. Miranda and I fled for our lives, aided in our escape by none other than Charles Vane.” He pauses and looks John up and down, judging him for all that he’s worth. John isn’t sure if he finds anything. “I hear we have you to thank for that, at least in part.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the governor just let you leave?” John asks in disbelief, from what he’s heard of Lord Ashe he wasn’t the type.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint looked away from him and back out the window, he had that look of unbearable sadness on his face again. John wondered if he was letting him see it on purpose or if he just couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Miranda noticed that something was… off in the governor's house. When we were taken to a room to clean up she told me her suspicions. We made use of a window close enough to the ground, luckily there weren’t too many guards. Charles and his men turned up right as more caught up to us. Without him we would have surely been overwhelmed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John takes it all in. “So what you’re telling me is that you and your companion fled the governor of Charlestown’s house through his window like some scorned lover trying to escape in the night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint laughs again. This time he’s laughing hard enough for him to deem it necessary to cover his mouth. John just </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s not that he hadn’t been aware of how attractive Flint had been before, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that, yes.” Flint said once he had calmed himself a bit. John knew it hadn’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John noticed then that they were alone in the room which meant… that Mrs. Barlow was with the men. Not that he didn’t think she could take care of herself, or that the men would do anything to her but… He didn’t think that Flint would be the type to trust the men around her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t help himself. “Where’s Mrs. Barlow?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint looks to the door, “I believe Charles is doing his best to teach her how to sail. I tried once but… well let’s just say that while she has many talents, sailing is not one of Miranda’s fortes. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if she argued the sea into submission.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charles?” John says, almost not listening to the rest of what Flint says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint snorts “You know, of all the people I would expect to have bonded so quickly, those two would have been at the bottom of the list.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charles Vane?” John repeats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint raises his brow at him again but doesn’t say anything more on the subject. That only makes John more curious but he’ll have to wait to learn more, he knows he won’t get anything more from Flint on the subject. “We’ll be in Nassau in two days.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nassau. Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nassau</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>gold</span>
  </em>
  <span>. John does his best not to panic, to stay calm. He comes up with a story, believable, not incriminating to him. Unfalsifiable. He tells him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint is enraged. John isn’t certain if Flint suspects him, but he isn’t certain that it matters. Flint couldn’t find anything on him, and the men would support him in a way that they never had Singleton. All of this was true, yet he felt…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt something? He wasn’t sure he had ever felt anything towards someone he had betrayed in such a way. There had been many, many he had liked more than Flint. Some he’d even admired. It wasn’t guilt, at least not in any way he’d known it before. He shoved it to the back of his mind as best he could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint storms out of the cabin, swearing Jack Rackham’s name as he leaves. John knows where he’s going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John closes his eyes for a few moments of glorious silence before Flint bursts back in; Mrs. Barlow and Vane in tow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feigns sleep as Flint yells at Vane. Vane does the strangest thing, John notes, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>defends</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rackham. John isn’t sure how long it takes, it must be almost an hour  if not more, before Flint finally calms some and sits down hard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Barlow had been silent until then. “James,” she starts quietly, “we didn’t get the pardons, the gold cannot hinder them anymore. I’m sure Charles can work something out with Captain Rackham for you and the crew.” Her voice is soothing but unrelenting. </span>
  <span>The conversation calms from there while Flint and Vane work out what they will do about Jack when they arrive back at Nassau. John fades into sleep, unable to listen any longer. He’d done his part and </span>
  <em>
    <span>survived</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was all that mattered, he told himself.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We make our journey back into Nassau.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He slept for a full day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wakes to the sound of quiet voices, of an argument he isn’t meant to hear. He doesn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No Miranda, it’s out of the question.” It’s Flint’s voice, low and a little irritated, as though this wasn’t the first time they had had this argument.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“James don’t be ridiculous, where else are you going to put him? On the beach? You might as well kill him now for you know that the infection will take place and you might lose him. This way he’ll be somewhere safe and clean.” Miranda says, her voice is calm but firm. John barely knows her but he is certain that she will win this fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He isn’t certain that he wants her to, if the fight is about what he thinks it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miranda </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Flint says but John can hear the weariness in his voice. She’s won. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“James.” Is all she says, it's all she has to say. There are a thousand meanings behind that word, a thousand emotions. A whole life together that has led up to this moment. A life together in which all she has to say is his </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the argument is over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wants to run. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, but if this ends poorly…” Flint trails off and John can’t help but open his eye the smallest amount. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re sitting at his desk but they’d moved the chairs so that they were sitting on the same side of it. She was his equal in a way that no other on the ship, or likely all of Nassau, was. Not even Mr. Gates. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were bent over, their heads leaning in and touching each other. He held her hand in his. John closed his eyes again, not being able to watch any more of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears a knock at the door. It’s Billy telling them that they’ve arrived in Nassau.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John waits until Billy and Flint are done discussing what they’ll do when they arrive on shore, what they’ll do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both leave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Barlow moves over to him. He wonders if she knows he is awake, if she’s known the whole time. If she does, she spares him of it, she gently shakes his shoulder to wake him up. He waits for a few seconds then opens his eyes blearily. It’s not hard to feign just having woken up, he’s had a bone deep exhaustion ever since they came back to Nassau with the Spanish man of war.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t think it will ever leave him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Barlow is standing over him, not quite smiling at him. “You’re to come home with myself and Captain Flint. He has decided to give the men a few weeks rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I not stay with the men?” He asks, petulantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow at him, “I think we both know that this is the best possible course for everyone involved. You get the rest you need and a clean place to do it. The men know that you are safe and that you and your captain are a team.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the captain? How is it the best possible course for him?” He asks. It isn’t his place, or at least it hasn’t been before now. And he doesn’t want to hear anymore about the men and their care of him, not right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t answer him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lays there while she packs a few things in a few bags. Some of the captain's clothes, her own clothes, a red book. He waits and watches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint and Billy come back in and move to him and Mrs. Barlow ashore undoubtedly. Billy moves closer, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>carry </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint must see something in the look on his face and all he says is “Don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John glares at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going ashore, the four of us and Captain Vane. Billy is going to take you and Mrs. Barlow to the house while Vane and I deal with Rackham.” Flint says in that voice that there is no arguing with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy pointedly doesn’t look at Mrs. Barlow as he moves over to help John up. He helps John up so that his arm is under John’s armpit and John’s is slung over his shoulder. His leg touches the floor, but only barely just. Billy is tall and strong enough to make it look like John is supporting his own weight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John hates him a little for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through the haze of sudden pain and exhaustion, it’s difficult to be moved around even this much, he sees Flint wordlessly take the bags Mrs. Barlow had packed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe the Captain had some gentleman residing deep within him. Maybe, maybe not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They somehow make it out of the now cramped cabin. Vane is waiting for them on the deck. He doesn’t offer to help and John feels more relief at that than he ever would have expected. He doesn’t even look at John.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles Vane still doesn’t think him worth knowing and that sets the world a little more back in balance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The men are waiting on the deck, but they’re not looking at him, thank god. They’re looking towards another ship in the harbor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Their ship.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Walrus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.” John says and his breath leaves him, he thought they’d never see that ship again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint looks furious. It’s one thing, apparently, for Rackham to have stolen his gold. But his </span>
  <em>
    <span>ship</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles Vane notices this and whispers something to him that John can’t hear. Flint nods tersely at Vane and moves towards the launch hanging over the side of the ship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John is struck silent for a moment. Since when did Captain </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust Charles </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vane</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> had happened in Charlestown?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------------------------------</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a short boat ride back to shore, but it is an awkward one. Billy still won’t look at Mrs. Barlow, or at John’s leg for that matter. Mrs. Barlow is smiling softly, watching the Captain, relief evident on her face though he isn’t sure of what. John himself stays silent. Flint is arguing intently with Vane </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> over what to do with Jack Rackham and the cache.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John is yet again relieved that he does not know the role he played in the theft of the gold. He knows it won’t be the last time this is true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The launch lands on the shore. John swallows as he sees Jack and Max watching them from the shore. Jack is visibly on edge. John thinks Max is more than a little nervous, but sometimes it’s hard to tell with her. Anne Bonny is lurking behind the two of them, her hat angled over her face. Her arms are crossed but John knows she’s waiting in case she needs to defend either of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint hops out of the boat. John thinks he’ll go charging after them but he just reaches a hand out to Mrs. Barlow and helps her out of the boat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait here.” He says to the four of them. Vane looks like he’s about to follow, do whatever damage control he can to prevent Flint from murdering his friends. And Max.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Flint doesn’t go towards them. They lose sight of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re starting to become more and more on edge, all of them save Mrs. Barlow of course, when they see Flint on the edge of the camp with a pair of horses and cart hitched to it. He waves at them to approach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy carries him as Mrs. Barlow and Vane chat aimlessly, Vane carries her bags. It’s a short walk but it’s made longer by the relentless pain in his leg and general awkwardness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint is holding the reins of the horses, his face is… Well it isn’t happy, John notes, but when was it ever? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy helps him up into the cart and takes the reins from Flint. Flint takes the bags from Vane and nods at him. He puts the bags in the cart then turns to Mrs. Barlow and his face seems to flit between a hundred different emotions so fast that John can’t keep track of them. Most seem to be some variation of worry, sadness, and pain. He smiles at her in a way that if John allowed himself to care about other people, would have broken his heart. They don’t say anything but Flint kisses her softly on the forehead. She closes her eyes and leans into it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint helps her up and gives Billy a terse nod. Billy flicks his wrist and they move away, headed inland. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John watches as Flint turns towards Vane and nods at him to take the lead. Vane and Flint begin the slow walk over to Jack, Max, and Anne. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They grow smaller and smaller until John cannot see them anymore and whatever lie he might have been able to tell himself about having control of his own fate falls flat even to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Barlow speaks before he can wallow in it any further. “Take a right up here, Mr. Bones.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy nods and moves the cart along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence is painful but he doesn’t know how to break it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you lived in the interior Mrs. Barlow?” Billy asks, his voice is tense but he was apparently unable to keep his curiosity at bay for any longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh dear, it must be ten years now. Time flies so quickly.” She says, her answer gave John, and undoubtedly Billy too, as many questions about her as it answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’ve lived with the Captain the whole time?” It’s John asking now, they’ve all heard part of the story by now, that she was somehow connected to Lord Ashe. Enough to be confident that her and Flint would be able to gain an audience with him at any rate. But John knows better than anyone that one small sliver of the truth can lead to a man creating a hundred more lies to tell himself, lies that the storyteller isn’t responsible to uphold and maintain. Lies that seep into one's head easily but are damn near impossible to get rid of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, we both came to Nassau together.” Mrs. Barlow says, she’s smiling at the both of them. John knows she’s telling them these snippets for </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason, but he can’t tell what it is yet. And he’s too damn curious not to play into her trap, regardless of what he thinks her motives may or may not be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy is too curious as well, for it is him that asks the next question “And you came here from? London?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a guess, but it’s a good one, no doubt based off of their connection with Lord Ashe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite right Mr. Bones, an excellent guess. James has talked more than once of your intelligence, it is refreshing to see it in action.” Mrs. Barlow says, in a conspiratorial voice, as if she’s letting them in on a secret. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Billy asks, the disbelief is clear in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stays silent, Mrs. Barlow was apparently a master in manipulation, he just wasn’t sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>yet. What her </span>
  <em>
    <span>goal </span>
  </em>
  <span>was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, your Captain Flint speaks quite frequently of his men. Sometimes it’s difficult to get him to shut up about you lot.” Mrs. Barlow says jovially. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy laughs, it’s a real laugh, “I find that almost as hard to believe as you being a ‘nice puritan woman who shares his love of books’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Barlow lets out a deep laugh and John thinks he might be a little bit enamored in her. “Is that what they call me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most of the men think you’re a sea witch.” John says, his voice is conspiratorial now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve heard that one before, I think the former is closer to the truth than that.” She says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then who are you?” Billy asks her, he’s not joking anymore. There is almost a sense of urgency to it, as though this question has been bothering him for a while now. John knows it has, it has bothered him too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks over the edge of the cart, to the grass blurring around them. “Nassau is a funny place like that; it simultaneously demands that you let go of who you once were to embrace it while never letting you forget that you being that person is what led you to it to begin with. Without our pasts Nassau would not exist, but if we remained who we used to be before it, this place would be impossible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them know what to say to that. The remainder of the trip is silent, save Mrs. Barlow's intermittent directions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrive at a modest sized house. There’s a small garden but not much else marking it from any other house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is so unremarkable a house for a man like Captain Flint to live in. Though John can’t think of any house that he’s ever seen that would be fit for Flint to reside in. The only place in his mind that Flint belongs is on the Walrus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miranda gets off the cart smoothly and grabs her bags. She instructs Billy to carry John to the kitchen and for them to wait there while she arranges the guest room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wait quietly while her muffled noises drift through the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you…” Billy starts but stops when he sees the look John is giving him. He sighs then says “I know this isn’t what you wanted, being quartermaster, but I think you could be excellent at it. If that’s what you want.” He stares into what feels like John’s very soul, but he doesn’t seem to need a response. He looks away from him and glances around the parts of the house that they can see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s strange isn’t it?” Billy asks him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very.” John says. Billy nods at him, though neither are sure what about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s another few minutes before Mrs. Barlow comes back in. “Mr. Bones would you mind taking Mr. Silver to the guest room? I’m afraid I won’t be able to help him along on my own and it would be better for him to be comfortable until James gets back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy nods at her and gives John a </span>
  <em>
    <span>what can you do</span>
  </em>
  <span> look and they follow her into the guest room. Billy helps John into the bed and he sighs in a mixture of relief and pain as he lays down. Mrs. Barlow has clearly changed the sheets and added more pillows than any man had any right to have on a bed. He was more grateful for it than he had been for anything in a long while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy steps back and nods at him, “Well, I had better be going.” He pointedly doesn’t look over to Mrs. Barlow. He’s leaving him alone with her, and eventually </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The coward. John glares at him a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy starts to leave but John says a rough “Thank you Billy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy gives him a small smile and lets Mrs. Barlow show him out of the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t come back immediately, he hears the door close but she opens another door before coming back to him. She enters the room with a pile of books under her arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid it can get dreadfully bored all the way out here.” She says as she places the books on the bedside table closest to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She puts her hands on her hips and looks around the room, she looks at him and smiles. “Would you like some tea?” she asks and he knows now more than ever before that he’s in trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods and her smile grows even wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for humoring me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter features; people, places, and things.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tea with Mrs. Barlow was a short but pleasant affair. He could tell that she recognized how tired he was and did not drag it out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She left him with a pleasant, “Goodnight Mr. Silver.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled weakly at her then shut his eyes tightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was he supposed to do now? Take his share and make a run for it? Could he even do that now?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did he even </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had always been a loner, hadn’t ever had anyone to rely upon nor wanted to. Not since he was small, and even then…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, those days were long gone and he wasn’t made for whatever the fuck this was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he wanted or who he was anymore, but he did know he was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blew out the candle next to him and let the night take him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wakes to sunlight and fresh sheets. The constant pain is still there but at least he’s in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A clean bed with clean sheets. It was more than he’d had for… he wasn’t sure how long really. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lay there, basking in the fact that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No one needed him, he didn’t need to be anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he was of much use to anyone anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down at what remained of his leg and pointedly looked away again. Maybe if he didn’t look at it it would…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What? Grow back? Stop hurting?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Barlow entered the room after a while, mercifully disturbing him from his thoughts. He silently thanked her for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled at him and chatted aimlessly as she changed his bandages. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not aimlessly he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing she does is aimless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re good at this.” John grits his teeth and nods towards the bandages. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, one does get a good deal of practice when they live with James.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders how often Flint had come home to her on death’s doorstep. How many times she’d had to coax him back to the land of the living. Whether he had come back with her willingly or she had had to drag him kicking and screaming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something told him it was more of the latter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I imagine he can be quite the difficult patient.” John thinks about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>stubborn</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Captain is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miranda snorts at that, “You’ve no idea. You should have seen him in his early days, he was even worse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine that, he’s awful enough as it is” John laughs a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She starts to say something else but tilts her head as if she hears something. He hears it a second later, the pounding of horses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That must be James and Charles.” She lights up at this, he wonders if this is what it is to love James Flint, to be constantly waiting for him to return to you. Wondering if this would be the time that he wouldn’t. He shudders as she finishes cleaning and wrapping his leg. She doesn’t say anything but helps him sit up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it would be best for you to stay in bed for a while, we ought to keep you off that leg as long as we can.” She says and he wants to protest but the thought of even attempting to stand on his own makes him nauseous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stands and brushes her hand lightly on his forehead, as if checking for a fever. He fights his body's urge to lean into it. He can’t even remember the last time someone had touched him so gently. Without wanting something from him, even if that want had been reciprocated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or if such a touch had ever happened to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll leave the door open so you can hear, I’m sure you’re dying to know what’s next as much as I am” she says then leaves him with a small laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closes his eyes and listens. He can’t hear everything they say but he gets the gist of it. The Walrus is theirs once more, though they’ve agreed to leave the Spanish man of war in the bay to protect Nassau and the gold. Jack, Max, and Anne will retain their lives and Flint and their crew will receive shares of the gold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All in all it’s a good deal for everyone involved. John knows Flint is probably furious over it. Or maybe he isn’t, he’s been… off since Charlestown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But John is certain that if Charles Vane hadn’t been there it would have ended infinitely more disastrously. He doesn’t know if that’s hilarious or terrifying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears soft footsteps coming down the hall towards him. He knows it’s Flint without opening his eyes, Miranda’s steps sound different and Vane wouldn’t care enough to visit him on his sickbed. So, Flint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears the gentle scrape of the chair on the floor as Flint moves it closer to his bedside. He opens his eyes and looks to the man sitting in it next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know Miranda left the door open so you’d hear. The gold is ours as is Nassau.” His face is unreadable in its many emotions that flit over it every second. “We won’t set sail for some time. You need to recover and Nassau needs some form of stability that having her strongest captains remain on shore will provide her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John doesn't say anything as Flint rubs his eyes, he looks</span>
  <em>
    <span> exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know this isn’t what you wanted, I know that…” Flint trails off and looks to his leg, he looks at </span>
  <em>
    <span>John</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I know that you didn’t intend to become quartermaster and that I…” he trails off again. John wonders what he was going to say, but doubts he’ll ever find out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think what I’m trying to say is that if you want to leave once you can, I won’t stop you. I understand, though I understand if you want to stay too.” Flint tells him and John is… astonished? Is that the right word? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t have long to think about it because a bright laugh trickles in through the door. Mrs. Barlow enters the room and walks over to Flint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“James, Charles has promised to show me around Nassau. It’s been years since I walked the town, and I must admit I am rather excited to see this treasure of yours.” She looks positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>giddy</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the thought of a jaunt around Nassau with a treasure at its end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint must see it too because he smiles up at her and raises an eyebrow at Vane who’s standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m sure that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> you too have planned?” Flint asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could join us if you wanted to.” Vane says in that gravely voice of his. John </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s missing something </span>
  <em>
    <span>vital</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he can’t quite put his finger on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Flint just shakes his head, “Another day perhaps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hold you to it.” Vane says and walks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be careful,” Flint says as he kisses Mrs. Barlow’s hand. A shadow passes over her face and she tilts his head up to her and kisses him fiercely on the lips. John wants to look away but doesn’t know how, he’s utterly enraptured by them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will.” She says after she breaks the kiss. She kisses him softly on the forehead then leaves them alone to their thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s silent in the room for a few minutes before John can no longer resist the urge to speak. “Why do I get the feeling that the two of them together might be Nassau’s ruin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint snorts “Because it probably would be if they wanted to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picks up a book from the nightstand next to John and chuckles a bit at Mrs. Barlow's choice then opens it and begins to read.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>----------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next week passes like that, more or less. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Barlow will come in the mornings to check his bandages and clean them. Then he’ll be left alone for a while. Then one or both will come and sit with him. Mrs. Barlow will usually talk at least for a while but it always ends with her or Flint reading quietly beside him. Sometimes if they’re both there they’ll quietly discuss the books that they’re reading. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those are John’s favorite moments. He wonders if this is what a </span>
  <em>
    <span>home </span>
  </em>
  <span>is, quietly existing with a person of your choosing and discussing books or whatever else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t know, but he thinks that he might like to. But he knows it’s only temporary in many ways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Depending on if Flint is away, Mrs. Barlow will eat supper with him. Sometimes they both will. Sometimes one of them will bring him food then wander away to join the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At night Mrs. Barlow will come check his bandages once more then give him a soft “goodnight, John.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint usually stays away during these hours but will sometimes meet his eyes as he passes John’s room on his way to his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the seventh day, much to Mrs. Barlow’s amusement, a few of the Walrus men come to check on John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy, Dobbs, and Dooley all sit around his bedside while Mrs. Barlow serves them tea. Flint stands irritated in the corner. John looks at him helplessly more than once but Flint is too busy glaring at the pirates that have invaded his home to care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John has spent enough time around Mrs. Barlow by now to tell that she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>greatly </span>
  </em>
  <span>amused by having three battle hardened pirates sitting in her guest room being served </span>
  <em>
    <span>tea</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobbs and Billy are hesitant around her but Dooley hangs off her every word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They leave after an hour, but Dobbs whispers to him loudly “We’ll tell the men that you’re alright.” Like he’s being fucking held captive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John grimaces at him, partially because the pain in his leg is flaring up but also because what the fuck is he even supposed to say to that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint stays hovering in the shadows of the room until they leave, escorted away by Mrs. Barlow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank fuck that’s over.” Flint grunts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John grunts in agreement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll have the house to ourselves tonight, Miranda’s gone to see Charles in town.” Flint says as if that </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>a terrifying prospect for a variety of reasons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint eyes him appraisingly, though John isn’t sure in what way. He isn’t sure he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know in what way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When Dr. Howell came by yesterday and said you should be well enough to be moved around to different places in the house. Provided you remain off your leg.” Flint taps his foot on the floor of the room and John wonders what he’s thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be nice to get out of the bed, even if it’s just a room over.” John says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What will you do with your share?” Flint asks him out of the sudden. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John flinches, unprepared to answer him. He doesn't know. He doesn’t even know if he wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>keep </span>
  </em>
  <span>his share, with all that he’s lost and betrayed to get it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, I suppose I haven’t really thought about it.” John says, and it’s mostly the truth. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>avoided</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinking about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint nods “I often wonder if you won’t disappear into the night with it once you’re well enough.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He says it without judgement, without anger. John wonders where the hell Captain Flint went. Maybe he had died in Charlestown after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I can anymore.” John says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows they’re both thinking of those words Flint had spoken to him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>where else in the world would you matter</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't know, doesn’t know that he wants to know. But he also doesn’t know that he has a choice in it anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nassau is an extraordinarily difficult place to leave.” Flint says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John is beginning to understand how </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> that is. But it isn’t just Nassau.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something else has gripped his claws into John. That something else half carries John into his sitting area.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sits down breathlessly and almost regrets getting out of bed. Almost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint sits across from him and stares at John. Stares </span>
  <em>
    <span>into</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, really. He wants to scream and flee this place. But he also can’t move, can’t even breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not worried about what they’ll get up to? Miranda and Vane I mean, between the two of them I’m not sure Nassau will survive them.” John mostly to change the subject, but he truly is curious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint snorts “It very well might not but she’s been cooped up here for so long I don’t have the heart to stop them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stares at him now. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the nature of their relationship? It was impossible to tell. They acted like they were friends, lovers, </span>
  <em>
    <span>married </span>
  </em>
  <span>even. Yet they did not share a name. And she was running around the island with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles Vane</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I must admit I cannot comprehend how in a few hours time Charles Vane went from wanting nothing more to kill you to becoming friends with your… Mrs. Barlow.” John says because it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>bothering him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint is quiet for a long minute “Would it satisfy you if I said that our interests are aligned and we have thus formed a coalition?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John laughed at him “No, you and Charles Vane have been at each other's throats since I’ve known you and longer still from what I’ve heard from everyone on this God forsaken island.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint gets up and puts the kettle over the fire. John hadn’t even noticed that it was lit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James Flint and Miranda Barlow drank an astonishingly large amount of tea, John had discovered not long into his stay. He didn’t know how to tell them he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. Sometimes Flint would get a glint in his eye when either one of them handed him a cup as if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> but continued anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint stands by the fireplace, facing away from John and stays until the kettle starts to whistle. He brings them both a tea cup and pours the tea. He hands John his then sits back down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not the first time such a thing had happened but John thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he has each time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charles Vane and I have never agreed on many things.” He says as if it’s something the whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>island</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t aware of. “For a long time there was an inherent…” he trails off, struggling to find his words, “an inherent clashing of philosophies.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John scoffs “Charles Vane is no philosopher.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint raises an eyebrow at him “Isn’t he? He knows his truth and holds to it in a just and honest manner that I have seen but once in my life. I think that’s why we never truly could coexist. He is fundamentally honest and I…” Flint’s eyes do that thing they’ve been doing a lot since Charlestown, they unfocus and he’s suddenly miles away. Maybe even years. John wants to know where he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And no one can ever truly know where you stand because you trust everyone about as far as you can throw Billy.” John says as he takes a sip of his tea. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have said it, he really shouldn’t have. Flint hasn’t exactly been known to be the most stable of individuals and John really shouldn't be saying things like that to him. But, he’s curious and Flint is more… John doesn’t know, he’s so different than he’s ever known him to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s calmer in a way, but still unbalanced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs at John, “You’ve got more nerve than just about anyone else I’ve ever met </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Silver</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way he says his name </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a crime because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span> does it send a shiver down his spine. “Ah, but you like it. No one else is dumb enough to challenge you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint stares at him then takes a sip of tea. “No, they aren’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s silent for a long minute then stands up and leaves the room. He’s back after a minute, holding two books under his arm. He hands one to John and keeps the other for himself. John barely looks at the one Flint has presented him with for his eye is drawn to the one within Flint’s own hands. He’s cradling it like it’s the most valuable thing he owns. The most precious thing Captain </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flint </span>
  </em>
  <span>owns is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>book</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wants to ask but something stops him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit there for what must be about an hour. Flint read his book occasionally, but mostly his eyes seemed to drift away from the page. Wherever he was, he was very far away. John wondered if he’d ever come back. Maybe he had never left that place, wherever it was. John sat and pretended to read until his leg began to grow too uncomfortable to remain in the stiff chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wiggled around in it, unsure of how to ask Flint to help him move. He did that for a few minutes, shifting uncomfortably around every so often until Flint sighed and put his book down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at John who smiled awkwardly at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint helped him back to the guest room and John tried to hide his gasp of pain when he bumped his leg on the edge of the bed. The pain was much less than it would have been even a few days ago but it was still overwhelming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He collapsed in the bed and Flint was kind enough to not say anything. John closed his eyes and sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight Mr. Silver.” Flint said and left him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John didn’t sleep much that night.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Google says that it takes between a month or two for an amputation to heal, I highly doubt that John gave himself anywhere near that long. I'm going to say it's been about two weeks by now? Either way he's got to be doing significantly better with not being on a ship surrounded by sand and salt water.</p>
<p> James and Miranda will take care of him I promise.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It wanted to happen ok</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning Mrs. Barlow glided gracefully into the room and helped him dress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charles and I visited with Captain Rackham and Anne Bonny yesterday, they said that Max had decided to redecorated Eleanor Guthrie’s old office.” She says smiling at him widely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And?” He says, he knows by now it’s easier to let her steer the conversation where she wants it to go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well Charles was helping her clear some of it out and one of the pieces she didn’t want was Eleanor’s old sofa. I thought we might be able to use it, and it would be much more comfortable than those old chairs James built.” Mrs. Barlow says looking at him proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John doesn’t even know what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She had gotten him a sofa. Flint had </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> those chairs. He had only known her for a few weeks. Flint was the most feared pirate on the seas and one of his past times other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>reading</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was </span>
  <em>
    <span>woodworking </span>
  </em>
  <span>apparently. Where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was he and who </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>these people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She brings him food and they sit together for a while. She’s reading something that John thinks Flint must have brought her from one of the prize ships. He’s pretending to read. After a while she puts the book down and looks at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John if you don’t enjoy reading just say so, I’m sure we can find you something else to do.” She looks like she wants to laugh but is holding it back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh thank God, I didn’t know how to say it. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> read you know, it’s just…” He doesn’t want to offend her so he cuts himself off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dreadfully boring?” She’s laughing out right now, it’s a lovely sound. She covers her mouth with her hand though he wishes she wouldn’t. He wonders if it would be too presumptuous to make it his life’s mission to make her laugh over and over and over again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Probably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a loud clang from outside the window and they look to each other before she stands up to open it. She laughs a little again and puts her hand over her mouth. She moves to the side a bit so John can see what she sees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Is all that he can manage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks back to him and raises an eyebrow and his face turns </span>
  <em>
    <span>red</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s quite the sight.” She says then turns back to the window, he thinks she’s as unable to look away as he is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Outside the window, no more than ten feet from it, Captain Flint and Captain Vane are sword fighting. Vane had given up on his shirt entirely at some point and Flint’s opened so far down his chest that he might as well have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Quite the sight indeed </span>
  </em>
  <span>John thinks, unable to him himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s been privy to watching many duels. Some for show, some for practice, but more that were very real. This falls in a category beyond all three. He’d seen Flint fight before, he’d seen him cut down men almost twice his size. He’d been all fury and rage, using his skill and will power to overcome against all odds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d clearly been raised with a sword in hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But so had Charles Vane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d heard of sword fighting being called an art before, but he’d never fully understood. After all, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>art</span>
  </em>
  <span> was there in something that so usually ended in the death of another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he could see it now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles Vane moved like an animal. He was graceful but strong, swift yet sure. Brutal but beautiful. If it were anyone else, he would have won the dual a minute after it began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Flint… Flint in this moment looked more calm than John had ever seen him. He was more </span>
  <em>
    <span>present</span>
  </em>
  <span> than John had ever known him to be. Flint was a storm, but a controlled one. He was… he was… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John had to tear his eyes away before he was sucked in to something he couldn’t climb back out of. His eyes wandered over to Mrs. Barlow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was leaning against the window, her hand still covering her mouth but her expression had changed drastically. She was crying now. They were silent slow tears, the tears of someone who was more accustomed to sorrow than anything else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tears you didn’t even notice falling down your face because you hardly knew anything else anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked away, unable to watch her quiet moment anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered what about the scene in front of them had brought her to tears. But then he sees it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or what he guesses is it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Flint is smiling at Vane. No, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>grinning</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d seen Flint smile a few times, but never an honest one. He’d seen him laugh a few times, but those had only ever lasted a few moments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was smiling now and it didn’t look like it would go away at least for the duration of the duel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John watched, entranced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dual seemed to last forever. It very well might have had Vane not stuck his leg out and tripped Flint. He kneeled over him, sword pointed at his throat. A few weeks ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to push it further. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But now he looked down at Flint who was grinning up at him, Flint nodded down and Vane saw the dagger that Flint had aimed at his stomach. Vane let out a loud laugh and stood to help Flint up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talked for a few minutes, pointing out each other's weak spots. John hadn’t noticed any, they seemed so impossibly skilled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard Mrs. Barlow sniffed quietly and saw her hastily rub at her eyes. He pointedly looked away from the window and at the stitching on his sheets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint walked into the room a few minutes later, still smiling softly. Mrs. Barlow turned and smiled at him, all traces of her tears gone from her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charles is staying for lunch, would you mind helping me? I don’t trust either one of our guests to not poison us if they so much as look to the kitchen.” Flint says as he walks over to her and puts his hand on her shoulders. She smiles up at him and nods gracefully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at her and frowns a little bit but she shakes her head at him and he lets whatever it is go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walks out of the room silently and they both watch her go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint turns to look at him but John shrugs. How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> was he supposed to understand whatever their strange dynamic was? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint sighs but helps him onto the newly acquired sofa. John stares at it, he’s seen it before of course, but such luxuries were not things to be found in places like this. Especially for people like him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint sets him down on it and adjusts one of the pillows that Mrs. Barlow must have put on it for him. He stares up at Flint, wondering not for the first time, what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going on here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint stares down at him for a moment then his lip muscle twitches. He saunters off, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>sauntering </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what he’s doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles Vane sits across from him and stares at him as he takes a long swig of rum straight from the bottle. “What’s your name again?” He asks in that rough voice of his. John wonders if it’s his natural voice or if it's something he practiced to make him seem more intimidating. Either way, John’s not about to ask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John Silver.” John says archly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vane snorts “Sure it is. Sorry about your…” he gestures to John’s leg. “Dumb fuck of a quartermaster got what was coming to him if you ask me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wants to scream. It wasn’t much of an apology, it barely registered as one and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t help </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But… It was more than he’d ever expected from Charles Vane. So, he nodded at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vane leaned forward and passed him the bottle of rum. John took it and swallowed deeply then passed it back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re not what I expected.” Vane says quietly, glancing over to Flint and Mrs. Barlow. They’re moving around each other gracefully in the kitchen, Flint is doing the majority of the actual cooking while Mrs. Barlow hands him what he needs before he asks for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looks away. “No they really aren’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vane is apparently done talking to him after that, which is perfectly fine with John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both watch the pair in the kitchen until the meal is finished. Flint helps John into a chair at the table and they all sit down together. It is thoroughly absurd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eat while Flint and Vane share stories of Nassau from before John had ever graced it’s shores. The narratives are conflicting at best, downright opposing at worst. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bellamy did not take the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Resolution,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was Teach.” Vane says, staring Flint down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No it wasn’t, I swear Bellamy boasted about it for </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span> after. Wouldn’t shut up about it.” Flint laughs as he takes a sip of his port. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was Teach, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Vane says. If John hadn’t witnessed their playful fight earlier, he would have sworn that Vane was about to leap over the table and start a not so playful fight in Mrs. Barlow’s kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, Mrs. Barlow cleared her throat and said “Gentlemen,” of which none of them were “perhaps we ought to move so Mr. Silver might be more comfortable whilst you argue about events long since past. Especially since you both know full well that there were two </span>
  <em>
    <span>Resolution</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s, one taken by Captain Teach and the other by Sam Bellamy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both laughed but moved John to the sofa. They told more stories for a long while. John laid there listening to them until it started to fade to night outside. The others didn’t seem to notice but his eyes grew steadily more heavy and he began to drift off in spite of himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lay there in a state half between sleep and being awake. After a while, Mrs. Barlow got up and brought him a blanket, he barely noticed it, somewhat used to her unfailing kindness by now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m off to bed now, I think we ought to let our Mr. Silver get his rest where he can.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Our</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mr. Silver. John is fully awake now, heart pounding, but he keeps his eyes closed. “Charles will you stay the night?” She asks, John wonders </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He didn’t think they’d put him in his room, even if he was asleep on the sofa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room is quiet for a minute before Vane answers with a simple “Yes, if that’s alright with your Captain.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know it is.” Flint says in a quiet voice. There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in it that John can’t quite place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Mrs. Barlow walk away, leaving the three men alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flint.” Vane says, it’s a little sharp but not unkind. John thinks that Flint probably has that far away look on his face. It doesn’t seem to call him back because Vane says his name “James.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John imagines him looking up at Vane, that horrible heart wrenching look on his face. He knows Vane is staring back, unrelenting. John doesn’t know how he does it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright, you know that right?” Vane says, his voice is more soft than John’s ever heard it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I do, that’s not…” Flint trails off, John knows that far away look is back </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to know what they’re talking about so badly it might devour him. He doesn’t have to wait long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then come with us, leave your ghosts here for the night. They will manage without you.” Vane says and John can hear him stand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint chokes a little bit but stands as well. Their footsteps fade down the hallway and into Flint and Mrs. Barlow’s room. And then John </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sleep does not come to him for a long while after that. Maybe it’s Flint’s ghosts that he’d left behind for the night, maybe they’d decided to keep John awake while they wait for Flint to come back to them. Maybe it’s the indistinct muffled noises coming from down the hall, but those fade after a time. Maybe it’s the images from the dual earlier in the day coming back to him now. Maybe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe it’s because once a thing is known, it cannot be </span>
  <em>
    <span>unknown</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I want to say that Miranda/Vane has somewhat been hinted at a bit here and there, our boy John is just super oblivious. They are not endgame but they both need some emotional and physical connection and they can find that in each other. Flint is very adrift and is looking for something to ground him, we'll see how well that works. </p>
<p>John will be explored later.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos appreciated as always, find me on tumblr as thegreatblondebalrogslayer.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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